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Jolie smiled. “The guy who owns this place is now in a nursing home. He used Dolly to guard his sheep against coyotes.”
“Coyotes?”He looked at the llama with new respect.
“She’d have a hard time dealing with a pack, but one or two she could handle. Wait here. I’ll get some things to clean up your arm, and then we’ll get you home.”
A moment later, Jolie returned to the porch with a basin of warm water and a package of gauze squares, then slipped on a pair of protective gloves.
Charlie flinched when she began gently cleaning the dirt and dried blood on his arms. “The owner’s family didn’t dare sell this place or his best friend, Dolly. They didn’t want to risk breaking his heart. And since llamas get really lonely, they had to keep Sadie.”
To distract him, she continued talking. “The family still brings Mr. Walters up here, now and then. Until I moved in, they had to come up to feed her every day. Now llama care is part of my rental deal.”
Patting his arms dry with a series of clean gauze squares, she sat back and studied the damage. All superficial, just as she’d thought. No imbedded debris. “Does your mom...er, your dad ever use any sort of antibiotic cream on you?”
He gave her a wary look. “I guess.”
“You can do that at home, but the main thing is to keep this clean.”
She surveyed him from head to foot and couldn’t help but grin. From his tousled hair and dirty face to his floppy tennis shoes, he looked like a modern-day Huck Finn who would have trouble staying clean and out of trouble for more than five minutes at a stretch. “You might want to keep some adhesive bandages over the two deeper scratches for a few days, okay?”
He nodded.
Dolly had been watching with interest, blowing at the back of Charlie’s neck and ruffling his hair with her muzzle. She lifted her head abruptly and spun around with her ears pricked forward.
From down the road came the distant sound of a man’s voice calling Charlie’s name. A deep voice filled with unmistakable worry.
“Oh, no,” Charlie groaned. “I’m inbigtrouble.”
“Let me guess. That’s your dad—and you didn’t leave him a note saying where you were going.”
From the look on the boy’s face, his dad wasn’t going to take this adventure lightly. Jolie pictured a scowling, angry man who wouldn’t waste a second on his son’s explanations.
Of course, not every father was like hers.
Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “Uh...thanks. I better go.”
Like a shot, he jumped to his feet and started for the rocky lane leading out of the clearing. His dad appeared before he’d gone a dozen yards.
Given Charlie’s unkempt appearance and lack of supervision, Jolie had envisioned his father as someone far different from the man who strode into the clearing.
Instead of a beer belly and week-old stubble, this man was clean-shaven, a good six-foot-plus, powerfully built. Jeans.A green plaid flannel shirt with cuffs rolled back, revealing muscular arms.
He gave the llama only a cursory glance, pinning his full attention on his son. At first glance, he appeared intimidating, his stride and the set of his strong jaw suggesting an intensity that didn’t bode well.
But as he came closer, she could see that his features weren’t twisted with anger. Instead, his dark eyes were filled with relief and frustration.
“Charlie!” He stopped in front of his son and looked down at him, resting one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Where have you been?”
Charlie studied his feet and kicked a tuft of dead grass. “Just exploring,” he said in a small voice.
“Your sister is back at the house in case you show up there and I’ve been looking for an hour. Do you have any idea—” His voice broke off as if he’d said these words a thousand times before and knew just how futile they were.
He lifted his gaze to Jolie’s, then glanced at the cabin behind her, and his eyes narrowed. He looked back to her. “Matt Dawson. We’ve just moved into the place down the road.”
“So Charlie said.” She could feel him assessing her as a possible threat to his son. Saw it in the way his other hand came to rest protectively on Charlie’s shoulders. And she liked him better for it.
His wavy black hair and strong jaw were simply a very attractive bonus.
She offered her hand. “Jolie Maxwell. I just moved up here, too, so I guess I’m your only neighbor. Charlie says you’re from Chicago.”
